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Wilco What You See Is What You Get
By now, you probably know the story. Wilco rises from the ashes of the late, great Uncle Tupelo,
the group that (for better or worse), critics and fans alike claim helped define a weird hybrid of
country/punk/rock in the '90s
For the uninitiated, Wilco emerged from the painful breakup of Uncle Tupelo in 1994 with a lineup
that contained four former UT members - co-founder and co-front man Jeff Tweedy, as well as
John Stirratt, Max Johnston and Ken Coomer - all of whom joined Tupelo for their swansong,
Anodyne, which, coincidentally, was the band's major label debut. (Johnston departed Wilco after
the Being There sessions.)
After a month or so in the studio, Wilco released A.M. to the usual critical hosannas, and of
course, equally typical minor commercial success. For the 200 or so live dates that followed, the
band was joined by Jay Bennett (Titanic Love Affair, Tommy Keene). Spinal Tap put it so
eloquently, "the world and elsewhere," playing every smoke-filled hole-in-the-wall from Iowa City
to Oslo, finally wrapping things up after a blurry summer on the roving cloud of pot smoke known
as H.O.R.D.E.
After that, the band went away for nine months. Nary a peep was heard. Members worked on side
projects, tried desperately to resume having lives, and Jeff Tweedy's wife Susan Miller co-owner
of Lounge Ax gave birth to their son, Spencer. From the outside, all appeared well.
Then, out of nowhere comes the two-record set Being There. And while it may seem painfully out
of fashion - a double record from a band with no substantial commercial base and a concept
record featuring a concept that's impossible to fathom - it remains the soundtrack to a period in
the life of a rock band, and in particular, in the life of Jeff Tweedy, Being There's solo songwriter.
It is, as Tweedy puts it, "a look at the emotional experience of songwriting from the inside out."
"I wanted our influences to be right on the surface on this one, because I don't hear many people
doing that anymore. I really wanted it to be, 'Wilco quotes from their, or maybe your, record
collection,'" Tweedy adds.
So what have we here? Nineteen new songs. From the dissonant pop angst of "Misunderstood"
and "Sunken Treasure" to the pure, joyous rock 'n' roll of "Monday" and "I Got You (At The End Of
The Century)"; from the beach Boys-infected "Outta Mind (Outta Sight)" to the live-in-the-studio
trash that is "Dreamer In My Dream," and the "sure, we can still do it" country-rock of "Forget the
Flowers," Being There is nothing if not ambitious.
As for an explanation, Wilco leaves that to you. Suffice to say that as we face the end of the
century, we're all fighting our private battles and demons. Some of us do it alone, on the dark side
of the room. Others throw them out there for public consumption. Dig it or not, you gotta admire
the gall. In an age where disposable guitar rock bands are raised to the level of cultural icons,
Wilco and Reprise Records took a chance and actually tried to be seen. To quote Tweedy's
"Misunderstood," "We'd be remiss if we didn't add that they'd like to thank you all. They'd like to
thank you all for nothing at all."
Say what you will; Wilco didn't make the same record twice. They did, however, make two records
at one. And now they await your verdict, and however uncool it may be, yeah, they give a damn.
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